Page 33 of Soulmarked

I resisted the urge to rub my temples, where a headache was building like an approaching storm. “Nothing I can't handle, sir.”

Sterling snorted, a harsh sound devoid of humor. “That right? Because from where I'm sitting, you're about a mile out of your depth and sinking fast.” He slammed his hand down on a folder centered on his desk blotter. The CITD insignia stood out in bold black, marked urgent in red that looked too much like fresh blood.

“Three more bodies,” he continued, voice like gravel. “Phoenix Pharmaceuticals employees. Found early this morning. So don't tell me what you can handle, son. Not when you're leaving a trail of corpses behind you.”

The folder seemed to gain weight as he shoved it across the desk. I didn't want to open it. Didn't want to see what waited inside. But that wasn't how this job worked.

The first image hit like a punch to the gut. This wasn't just violence, this was artistry. The bodies had been arranged with limbs twisted into impossible angles, forming patterns that defied human anatomy. Whatever had done this wasn't just killing; it was sending a message written in blood and bone.

“Same M.O.?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Sterling stood, moving to shut his office door with a hard slam that made the blinds rattle. “Worse.” He stayed by the door, arms crossed, stance wide. “These weren't just hits, Cade. This was a warning.”

My exhaustion vanished, replaced by the sharp focus that came with real danger. “Who found them?”

“A cleanup team.” Sterling's words were clipped, final. “Drop this case. Now. I'm not asking.”

“Sir, with all due respect?—“

“Respect?” Sterling barked out a laugh. “You don't know the meaning of the word. If you did, you'd listen when I tell you to back the hell off.” He strode back to his desk, leaning forward on his knuckles. “You're chasing ghosts, Cade. And you're gonna get yourself killed doing it.”

I studied his face, looking for any hint of what he wasn't saying. Sterling was angry, but underneath that was something else entirely. Not fear for himself. Something deeper.

“Sir,” I chose my words carefully, fighting against my instinct to push back harder, “if Phoenix is involved in something that threatens civilian lives...”

“I said drop it!” Sterling slammed his fist on the desk, making pens jump. “You think you're the first hotshot who thought he could save the world? You think this is about doing the right thing?” He jabbed a finger toward the folder. “This is about you staying alive long enough to make it to next week.”

“These people are dead,” I said, holding my ground the way I'd done all my life when faced with authority figures who thought intimidation was leadership. “They were Phoenix employees, which makes it our jurisdiction.”

“Jurisdiction?” Sterling's laugh was bitter as black coffee. “Boy, you're playing checkers in a chess tournament. Take a closer look at the victims' files before you go crusading.”

I flipped past the crime scene photos to the personnel data. Three faces stared back at me, a research director, a security chief, and a project manager. All high-level employees, all with access to restricted areas of Phoenix's operations.

Then I saw it. The dates.

“These files were created six months ago,” I said slowly. “But their employment histories go back years.”

“Keep digging,” Sterling ordered, watching me with narrowed eyes.

I went deeper, and the pieces started falling into place. Educational backgrounds that didn't check out. References that led nowhere. Professional histories with just enough substance to look real under casual inspection.

“They're plants,” I muttered. “All three of them. But who...”

“And there's the million-dollar question you need to stop asking.” Sterling finally sat, but there was nothing soft about him. He was all hard edges and old scars. “Whatever rabbit hole you're diving down, it goes deeper than you could possibly understand. And trust me when I say this, son: some things, once you see 'em, you can't unsee. Some doors don't close once you've opened them.”

The implications settled like lead in my stomach. If Phoenix was opening doors that shouldn't be opened...

“I need you to get this through your thick skull,” Sterling continued, his voice low and dangerous. “This isn't about corporate espionage or unusual deaths anymore. You've caught someone's attention. Someone who doesn't fight fair and doesn't leave witnesses.”

“Sir...”

“Shut up and listen for once in your goddamn life,” he growled. “There are forces at work in this city that operate outside any playbook you've ever seen. They'll chew you up and spit you out without breaking stride. And all your moral highground and good intentions won't mean jack when they come for you.”

“And what if those forces are hurting people?” I challenged, feeling that familiar fire rise up inside me. “What if innocent lives are at stake? Do we just look the other way because it's convenient?”

Sterling's face hardened, but something flickered in his eyes. Recognition, maybe. “You're a good agent, Cade. But good agents end up dead when they stick their noses where they don't belong.”

I didn't flinch. Maybe I should have, but exhaustion and stubborn determination had worn away my sense of self-preservation. “Sir, if we back off now, we'll never find out what they're doing.”

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